


Of Fuck-Ups and Meltdowns

by MamzelleCombeferre



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, non-graphic vague descriptions of breaking bones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 23:32:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15181751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamzelleCombeferre/pseuds/MamzelleCombeferre
Summary: Percy has a small meltdown in his workshop. Vax tries to help. Neither does a very good job of expressing themselves.





	Of Fuck-Ups and Meltdowns

**Author's Note:**

> This is an expanded version of a little snippet I found in an old notebook that I didn’t hate. I’m not sure exactly where it takes place within the actual canon, but I can say that it’s probably pre-Briarwoods arc.

One wrong move and a misplaced thought, and the hammer comes down hard and fast on his finger. A deafening, sickening, cracking pop rings out in a tandem with an equally loud, “Fuck!” At the same time, he hears the beginnings of someone pattering down the stairs.   
  
About halfway down Vax’s voice becomes audible. “Freddy, I don’t mean to interrupt whatever important thing it is you’re working on, but Kiki’s been calling for the better part of an hour. You know how she gets--Fuck Freddy! What’s happened?”   
  
Percy stands next to the forge, cradling his hand against his chest. Pain shoots up in throbbing pulses from an index finger growing more colorful and swollen by the moment. “I seem to have made a-” he winces as he tries to move the finger, “A bit of a mistake.”   
  
Vax barks a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah looks like it.” He says, rushing forward in three large steps to examine the damage. After a few painful proddings, the result is clear. “That’s definitely broken. Lucky it’s not completely shattered.”   
  
Now Percy has to laugh at this, so he does, in wheezy hysteric giggles that spill into tears of silent mirth.   
  
Vax looks at him incredulously, confusion and concern clear on his face, while Percy realizes Vax is still holding his hand when Percy reaches up to wipe tears from his cheeks.   
“Honestly Freddy, what the fuck?” Vax asks, with a tone many would think unfairly abrasive, but what Percy recognizes as loaded with care.   
  
And at that moment the laughter starts to fade to sniffles. Percy leans back to rest against the worktable, his hysteric burst becoming quieter. The tears don’t stop. He tries to apologize. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m not usually so...” The words die on his tongue as he looks at Vax properly for the first time since he’d come down. His face is unbearably soft, and Percy can hardly stand it because gods knows he doesn’t deserve that.   
  
Rather than pulling away though, Percy, to his horror, finds himself crying harder. It’s not even about the finger anymore, though it still hurts terribly. He’s not sure what it’s for anymore, but that doesn’t stop the pained whimpering sob from eking it’s way out of his tightly sealed lips. There are countless potential reasons for this meltdown; objectively Percy knows that. Could be any one of them. Perhaps it’s all of them. Or maybe he’s just hungry and tired and in need of a bath once his damn finger is healed.   
  
Vax, without thinking, pulls the hysteric man in front of him to his chest and into a tight embrace. Percy tenses briefly, then just collapses into it because there’s no dignity here at this point, if there was ever any to begin with.   
  
After what feels like an eternity, Percy pulls away, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Despite the scene he’d just caused, he tries to pull himself back into a semblance of decorum. “I’m very sorry about that.” He says, though it sounds congested and hoarse, and not at all convincing. There’s a clear wet spot on Vax’s shoulder, stretching down his sleeve as well.   
  
 “It’s fine, Freddy.” Vax says, and it’s clear he means it, but his shoulders are tensed, and his eyes flash discomfort before settling back into concern. “You can come to us when you’re feeling,” Vax pauses, seemingly searching for the proper word, and ultimately settling for an entirely inadequate, “bad. You know that right?”   
Percy nods, an inadequate response, looking down at his hand that is now extremely purple around his three middle fingers. He winces when a dull throb makes his entire hand and wrist ache.  
  
Vax is a great many things: reckless, loyal to a fault, sneaky, but he’s perceptive and knows when to drop a conversation, something Percy has never been so grateful for in his entire time knowing the man.   
  
After a moment, Vax breaks the silence. “Let’s get that finger up to Pike, okay?” He says, touching a hand to the elbow of the arm not attached to Percy’s injured hand. Percy nods, looking up at the rogue once again. The unspoken agreement that neither will mention this again hangs heavy in the air between, but rests light on Percy’s chest as he allows himself to be lead upstairs to the rest of his companions. 


End file.
